Page 57 of Cartel King

I stare at him, only blinking. He said it so matter of fact.

“Fine. Stay.”

I walk to the door, and I know he watches me. I leave my bedroom and go down the hall to one of the guest rooms. I walk in, close the door, and lock it. I’m naked and afraid. I’m not even going to win any money from this like on that survival show. I grab the blanket off the foot of the bed and wrap it around me as Enrique jiggles the knob.

“You really locked yourself in?” He sounds aggravated now.

“No. I locked you out.”

Did he just chuckle, then clear his throat?

“You’re being stubborn, but I can be patient. I can wait you out, Ellie. If nothing else, the room isn’t an en suite.”

I’ll have to come out to pee. Fuck that. I’ll hang my ass out the window and water my plants first. Yes. Yes, I am that stubborn. I did it once in college. I was visiting my high school boyfriend at the beginning of freshman year, and he was pledging a frat. I wasn’t supposed to be in his room overnight. He went to see who was around and left me in the room alone. I had to pee so badly I couldn’t wait. I looked around the room, then out the window. I opened it, pushed my ass out, held onto the walls, and peed. That was thirty odd years ago, but if I did it once, I can do it again.

I hear what must be him sliding down to the floor and leaning against the door. I smirk as I pull down the covers and climb into bed. I grab the remote off the bedside table and turn on the TV. Now I’m certain he laughed.

Let him.

I get through three half-hour episodes of a sitcom I’ve seen all the way through at least four times. I wouldn’t let myself look at the door, but I know he’s still there. I know if for no other reason than the alarm hasn’t gone off, which it would if he left without disarming it.

“Ellie, come on.” He knocks twice.

I have nothing to say that won’t be hurtful or won’t dig myself in deeper. I just stare at the door. I hear something against the knob, then the door opens. I should have fucking known. He has what I do. A lock picking set. How much shit can he hide in his pockets? I didn’t hear him get up to go to my room where his clothes are. Though he might have grabbed them before following me down here.

He steps into the room, but he doesn’t close the door. Instead, he steps beside the wall. We watch each other.

“Chiquita, I’m sorry.”

I push back the covers and nearly fall out of bed in my rush to get to him. Fucking hell. So much for my resolve.

“Please slow down, Enrique. Please don’t leave because I don’t know yet whether I can get to what you want. Give me time to try.”

I’m in his arms again, and I take my first deep breath since our argument started. He’s still naked, and I let the blanket fall to the floor. Our bare skin touching is so fucking intimate, even though I’ve stood in this position with other men. I feel him harden as we kiss. He lifts me, and his cum that’s still inside me makes it easy for him to slide in. He walks to the bed and climbs on with no effort. He moves to lean against the headboard. We just sit together, joined and peaceful. As I lean against him, he strokes my ass.

He’s taking care of me, and I know it.

“I’m sorry too, Enrique. Please hold me.”

“For as long as you want,cariño.”

Sweetheart. He’s called me that before. He has four nicknames for me, and I have none. I won’t use any Italian ones because that opens me to more questions I don’t want to answer. I think about a French one.Doudou. It sounds horrible in English, but it means cuddly toy. I think the irony would be funny. But I love these hugs we share. I enjoy cuddling with him.

Mon minet. Mee-nay. Sounds far better in English.

“Thank you,mon minet.”

He hesitates for a breath, then laughs so hard his body shakes. It rumbles through his chest, and his abs rub against me as they contract and relax. I suspected he spoke French.

“Your pussycat?”

“I like to make you purr.” I grin and waggle my nose.

“There’s only one kitty purring in this house.” He grinds me against him.

“You remind me more of a lion or tiger.” I run my hand through his dark hair. “Jaguar. But you’re sweet with me, too. I don’t think you’re like this with many people. It’s special to me, so I want a name for you like you have for me.”

“I don’t think I’ve had a sweet side since my nephews were preschoolers. You’re my haven, Ellie. I can let my guard down around you in a way I can’t even do around my family. My mind will always have a low hum because my responsibilities are always there. But you let my mind quiet. You let me breathe easier and enjoy the moment. You let me be who I’d be if I weren’tjefede jefes.”

---